“Yes. Really.” I took a breath and held it.
“All right then. Let’s do it. I’d be delighted to have you as my first mate.”
“Can I call you Captain?”
“Of course.”
“Can we make love under the stars every night?”
“Barring mosquitos, yes.”
“And you’ll teach me how to sail?”
Arden nodded vigorously and clapped his hands together with excitement. “I’d love to.”
I kissed him fiercely, tasting that sweetness that inspired both ecstasy and madness in equal measure. Maybe it was mad of me to pack up my entire life and follow Arden into the setting sun, but I knew for certain it’d be more foolish to let him go.
I would be his anchor in rough seas and his safe harbor when he needed shelter from the storm. He would be the wind propelling me toward new horizons. And one day, when the timing was right, I’d ask him to spend the rest of his life with me.
Arden Evans D’Agostino. I liked the sound of it. I hoped that he would too.
Epilogue
Sailing was not nearly as glamorous as it was portrayed in the movies, nor as effortless as Arden made it out to be in his memoir. It was labor-intensive work—winching the sails, hoisting up the anchor, crawling down into the watery hull to hunch over the bilge to see what the hell its problem was on any given day. Seasickness was a real thing too. The best remedy, as Arden informed me, was to stare at the horizon.
The wind was, in Arden’s words, “a fickle bitch,” and filling Tondaleo’s sails consumed most of our daylight hours. Arden slipped easily into the role of captain and taught me all manner of nautical terms, both in times of leisure and in times of stress. Sailing was all about timing. Brevity and command were often necessary to keep the vessel moving in the right direction or, in the midst of a storm, to keep us from capsizing.
What a thrill it was to survive the elements, how life-affirming.
The same steel and authority with which Arden had defended me against insult in New York, he now applied to the industry of sailing. It was a joy to see him thrive in his element, the prodigal son having returned at last to his native land. Or in this case, native waters.
There were quiet moments too, such as when Arden spent an entire afternoon teaching me how to properly loop and throw a cast net to collect baitfish. And when he guided my clumsy fingers through the most rudimentary knots.
At nighttime we laid up on the deck, and he pointed out the constellations—Orion, Gemini, and Taurus, the North Star, the Big and Little Dippers, and Venus, which was not a star but very much resembled one.
We swam naked in water so clear we could see each other’s shriveled bits and then later, made love to the gentle rocking of the boat.
While anchored off the coast of Bimini, under a moonlit sky, Arden topped me for the first time. The breeze kept the bugs away, and our pile of cushions and blankets made for a cozy lover’s nest. It was sensuous and slow, building like a perfect set of waves, lifting me a little higher each time. I crested and floated on a sea of pleasure with a fathomless depth beneath me. As I came down, Arden held me close and whispered affirmations of his love and devotion.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for months,” he confessed. “Ever since our threesome with Franco.”
“Why didn’t you?” I asked, and he stuttered and blushed profusely.
“I guess I wasn’t ready.”
After that, our lovemaking took on a new spontaneity. Free to follow our particular passions, our sexual appetites became as varied as the weather. And when we weren’t stargazing, sailing, or making love, Arden read over my new manuscript.
“Andrew is infuriating,” he said to me on one occasion. “I don’t know how Dupree puts up with him.”
“Andrew is reluctant to trust other people because he’s been burned in the past. Why should he tell all of his secrets to the man accusing him of murder?”
“Dupree is clearly sympathetic to his situation. If Andrew would just stop playing games and communicate with him…” Arden’s scowl transformed into a slow smile. “Wait a minute, are you trying to tell me something, Michael? Did you really write a whole novel just to point out my character flaws?”
I laughed and dragged him closer so that I could kiss the top of his sun-bleached head. “Detective Dupree is stubborn and bull-headed. He’s so focused on solving the case, he doesn’t realize that Andrew has been telling him the truth all along, in his own way.”
“Please tell me they’re going to have hot, angry sex before all of this is over.”
“No spoilers.”
